


Sixth Sense

by Magpies_and_candywrappers



Category: Altered Carbon (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Reader-Insert, clairvoyant!reader, within the realms of possibility
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-23 11:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpies_and_candywrappers/pseuds/Magpies_and_candywrappers
Summary: Poe is minding his own business when dear Mr. Kovacs bursts into the lobby carrying an unconscious girl, Kristin Ortega is right behind him yelling about ...well, a lot of things ( he can't blame her) and Y/n is quite the new guest, even if she did get blood on the carpet.When a clue leads Kovacs to a retrofitted warehouse being used as an off the books experiments facility, he gets more than he bargained for. And Ortega was right on his trail because when is she not? But there is more to Y/n L/n than meets the eye, especially if it turns out Bancroft is right about what he believes of Y/n





	1. Lobotomy

“Goddamnit Ortega, I don’t need you following me around this whole city,” Kovacs growled lowly as he peered around a corner. Shut his eyes and concentrated and rooted out no immediate dangers. “Yeah, well every time I turn my fucking back, someone’s dead or on fire,” she shot back equally as venomous, and if looks could kill, Kovacs knew he’d be dead by her dark eyes a thousand times over and then some. Then he tensed. The scream that echoed through the building sent a shiver down Ortega’s spine, something that happened once in a blue fucking moon.

The room was clean and white and smelled of antiseptic to the point of burning one’s nose and was almost too big for the simple pieces of equipment. A padded and adjustable chair used for check-ups and simple procedures, a desk, two computers consoles, an operating robot and a piece of equipment that was unrecognizable. That too had a console on the top and the lower half stored the rest of the cables and wires that would be utilized later. You were strapped to the medical chair by multiple restraints though, at this point, they were hardly needed. You were struggling to focus on your breathing through the haze of drugs. “Please,” you gasped as you tried to reach out to them, two lab assistants milling about and ignoring you. “Please…” The one to the left of you was a young man named David and he was worried more about what he was going to eat for lunch right now, you felt it in the cloud of his mind. The other man was preparing something though he was focusing on trying to look rich to impress the higher-ups. You squeezed your eyes and reached though, in your state, your ability was limited. You caught a whisper of something on the wind of consciousness that flowed from the men, from the distant rivers of people unaware of experiments going on under their noses. Or maybe they did know and just didn’t care if the vapid minds of the lab assistants were anything to go by. ‘Sure glad that’s not going in my fuckin’ head,’ David thought and your blood turned to ice in your veins, heartbeat picking up.”You don’t have to do this, “ you whispered, struggled against the large metal cuff keeping your head still, picked up a letter T seemingly from nowhere. ‘Help me please, make it stop,’ you begged the trickle of life that was moving around somewhere in the facility. T...a? Someone’s initials or the first two letters of a name? Two Ks, who or what-  
The pain of a long sharp object piercing the side of your head, just about two inches past your temple, which could kill you, interrupted that particular train of thought. The scream sounded foreign to your own ears, aching and razor-sharp agony ripping through your skin and permeating your skull. “The bone...it's ruined,” you muttered deliriously as you thought the pain must somehow be rotting the very bone. ‘Squamous temporal’ you picked up from the other lab assistant. Oh goody. ‘This is how a god was born,’ was thought vaguely. How Zeus had his skull split open using a spike to alleviate his pain and thus, Athena sprang from him fully formed. There were no gods. Only the Meths.  
You gave a spastic twitch, another wretched moan. “C’mon David, can’t we sedate her?” Travis whined and for a second you pretended it was out of sympathy and not an annoyance on having to hear you cry out in fucking pain. “Already told you dipshit, she’s got to be conscious for this part of the procedure.”  
You knew that two clean white double doors lead into this very room. “Oh….that’s not good. He’s pissed,” you muttered and sank into exhaustion. The outside anger permeated your preternatural senses like a thin sheen of sweat that didn’t dry, only got worse with humidity. Those two double doors with translucent windows became splattered with crimson as two gunshots ripped apart the silence that had swelled back into the gap after your scream, the red sea slamming back into one. David and Travis trembled and nearly pissed themselves, swore no one would know that (you did) and looked at each other. There was nowhere to hide, not behind the computers or under the chair you were strapped too. The doors were kicked in and your desperate mind picked up the disbelief, the disgust. “What the fuck…” an accented voice whispered, female. One of the Ks. “Don’t fucking move!” The woman snarled and you stayed where you were with little say in the matter. “Anyone care to explain what the fuck is going on?” A man growled and you couldn’t pry your eyes open again, hurting too much, too tired. “Help,” you whispered feebly, your whole body visibly shaking now and oh, how wonderful it would be to succumb to the darkness kissing your eyelids. “Here’s the deal. One of you fuckfaces is going to take that fucking fire poker out of her head, and whoever does that puts me in a slightly better mood,” the man shouted. “ I need to take them in, Kovacs,” the woman reminded darkly. “Not if I blow out their fucking stacks first,” he muttered. David was a trembling mess as he made his way over to you and pressed a small button on the node of whatever was sticking out of your head. “Okay,” he said in a wavering voice, “1..2..3,” he said and the needle retracted back into its home, wrenching it free of your head and thus pulling another scream from you, sending you into darkness.


	2. Sensory

Kovacs stormed into the Raven Hotel’s lobby and immediately caught sight of Poe at the front desk, unshaken as ever at his bloodied appearance ( most it not his, as per usual) carrying an unconscious girl. Then Ortega followed him in like clockwork. “How is the hotel any safer than my place? And what about medical treatment?” she asked as he made a beeline for the elevator.   
“I can assure you, Ms. Ortega that I may be able to instruct Mr. Kovacs in a number of procedures should...this young lady need it,” Poe said cheerfully and for once, his annoyance at the AI went down a tick, jerked his chin at Poe. “What he said,” he said with finality though nothing was final with Ortega. The crimson glow of the elevator’s panels washed over them and the girl gave a pitiful moan, and it occurred to him that Ortega was in the cramped space with him and was likely to follow him to his room. The two lab assistants had begged for their lives and he very nearly ended them but Ortega had wanted to question them, take them in. He glanced down at the girl in his arms as she began to speak about how he was in the middle of just about everyone’s crosshairs, but just who everyone was, well he was damn well going to figure it out. “Take your guys to investigate but she stays with me. This has something to do with Bancroft’s murder,” he asserted. Kristin sighed exasperatedly and gestured wildly. “How could you possibly know that?” she asked, brow creasing. “Envoy’s intuition,’ he groused as the elevator doors opened.  
One of the greatest ways you gleaned information was not in the way most people thought. Thought and consciousnesses flowed like a river, in brooks and streams and in oceans in huge cities. And like all oceans, you had to be careful or get swept up and thrashed by the water. The water could flood your lungs and carry the life out of you. You were held in someone’s arms and cradled to their chest, smelled the unnerving metallic tang of blood and sweat that wasn’t dirty, simply male. Picked up the full name now that its owner was making physical contact with you, Takeshi Kovacs. A name and face that didn’t match what the mind knew. This caused you to jerk in the man’s arms and he cursed, quickened his pace and you felt something soft underneath you. Trapped in the daze and dull pain, occasionally twitching and whimpering, you looked pathetic. There was a thin ribbon of blood and clear fluid flowing from where the needle had been injected and then removed. “You don’t believe what they said about her, do you?” the woman asked, Ortega you barely registered, pulled from the immediate surface of Kovacs’ mind. 

“I’m not sure what I believe,” Kovacs said. Deep voice and slightly rough, it was not entirely unpleasant. The man and woman were no immediate threat to you so you drifted a while longer, just a little while longer. “I’m staying and when she wakes up, let me do the talking,” Ortega said and Kovacs made a noncommittal noise and you sensed they had reached some sort of rare stalemate, not quite a negotiation. Picked up more bits and pieces as Kovacs and Ortega settled in for the time being. Names like Samir and Alazne (mama) floated easily through the stream of thought and then there it was, deep aching trauma. You let out a tiny whimper that Ortega missed but Takeshi immediately looked over to you, brow creased. A serious-faced dark-skinned woman, long locs falling down her back. An armed guard, a praetorian stared you down and you felt the flood of anger and bitterness and white-hot fury and they opened fire, bullets tearing open your chest. The scream bubbled out of your throat and Kovacs and Ortega ran over, slowed down as you fell out of the bed and scrambled backward until your back touched something solid. Gasping raggedly, you slapped a hand to your chest which was devoid of bullet wounds but for a split second, you did see blood on your hand. “It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe,” Ortega soothed and you nodded weakly. Ortega was short and muscular with dark eyes and hair while Kovacs was tall, somewhat broad, had sandy hair and gray-blue eyes. There was some busted skin around his nose which indicated a scrap of some sort. The face you saw now did not match what was in his head, though the face you had seen was fading rapidly. It was hard to retain things you picked up on when barely conscious. Ortega reached out to touch your shoulder and you flinched hard. “Don’t!” You squeaked and she retracted her hand. You weren’t sure what had been done to you but anymore contact and you might fall under again. Kovacs dropped gracefully into a crouch. “ Can you tell me your name?” he asked and Ortega shot him a look but let it slide. “Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You said softly, gaining some of your bearings. “Y/n, everything is going to be alright. I’m a police officer and I promise you can trust me,” she said but you knew that already. Believed you could trust Kristin Ortega. “Kovacs is...you can trust him too,” she said somewhat begrudgingly. “Do you know who took you?” she asked. “No. I was drugged at a party. I didn’t see anything until I woke up and then..” You shook your head then reached up a trembling hand to the side of your head but then thought better of it. “Those lab idiots said you were clairvoyant,” Kovacs stated bluntly and Ortega shot him a death glare. “Well,” you started, “It’s as true as anyone willing to believe it and stick needles in my head. Depends on if you’ll even believe me,” you said. “It was a little bigger than a needle,” Kovacs muttered and you snorted, much to Ortega’s surprise. Got to laugh at life or never stop crying.  
“So...where are we?” You asked, taking a more assured step forward and glancing around. There was a sitting area beyond the bed that was comprised of two rather comfy looking antique chairs with cream fabric and a chaise lounge with the same fabric. Some gauzy curtains moved gently above the archway leading to the balcony. It was all authentic if the tingling down your neck and spine were any indication and you’d hold off on physical contact until your mind stopped feeling like a livewire gone rogue. “The Raven hotel,” Kovacs said, then, “You were taken if you were clairvoyant which might not even be true,” he stated bluntly. “You were abducted because someone believed you had abilities,” Ortega cut in. “If they wanted me to go around poking for information without anyone knowing what was happening, then sticking a steak knife in my head may or may not have done the job,” you said exasperatedly then Kovacs got a look of concentration. “You can hack people without them even knowing,” he uttered. “I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call it- If whoever took you can get you near just the right people, maybe at just the right time, then you’ll get all the information they need without ever risking exposure,” he stated. “Then you believe what I can do?” You asked. “We’ll see about that,” Kovacs grumbled. Oh, he believed something alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Ortega is my mom and Poe is such a dad.  
> Okay, so in my head, I thought that being some kind of clairvoyant is within the realm of possibility and even if no such things seems possible from the show, this is all in good fun.  
> edit 4-11-19: My one brain cell just realized Quell had braids not locs soo....


End file.
